Chapter 505: The Oil Jar's Farewell

Poker-face and I found a table by the window at Wailouwai Restaurant. The sky was overcast, a gloomy, cloudy day, with oppressive dark clouds that seemed to promise rain soon.

Poker-face was silent as usual, but fortunately I was already used to his aloofness. I ordered the dishes myself, then saw him quietly staring out the window.

I knew that if I didn't speak, he might stay like that until he left—he would never break the silence just because the conversation had stalled.

After sitting in the cold wind by West Lake for five or six minutes, when the first dish arrived, I lit a cigarette and asked him, "Your business, is it finished?"

"Mm," he nodded. I realized it was true—the stubborn aura in his eyes was gone, replaced by a deeper calm. Unlike when he lost his memory, this deeper calm was an extreme inner peace.

"Everything is finished?" I asked him. He turned to look at me. "It's over."

"So what are you planning to do afterward? Any place you want to go? How about staying in Hangzhou?" I asked, mentally calculating my assets. Housing prices in Hangzhou had been rising fast lately. If this broke guy wanted to buy a house here, he'd definitely ask me for a loan! I had no idea where his money went—I'd never seen a large bill in his pockets. Damn it, I didn't have nearly enough. If he really asked me for money to buy a house, I'd better persuade him to rent first.

"I have to go back where I belong," he said.

"Where do you belong? Is it far?" I asked him. He picked up his chopsticks, silently picked up a bite of food, and nodded.

"So you came to..." I rarely had such a serious conversation with him; it felt especially awkward, so I just followed along, asking sporadic questions.

"I came to say goodbye to you," he said. "This whole thing is over. I thought about my connection to this world, and it seems the only one I can find now is you."

"No problem, you can call me or write me later. You might not know how to type, but you can write, right?" I said. "In modern society, there's no such thing as truly distant places."

He didn't respond and continued eating.

Poker-face's movements were very light, as if he used no strength at all—actually because his wrist strength was immense and his control over his actions was extremely precise. When I'd eaten with him before, there were always other people around, so I hadn't paid much attention. Watching him now felt quite strange.

The silence returned, and I began to miss Fatty terribly. I realized the reason I'd never felt awkward silences before was that Fatty silently shouldered so much of the conversational burden. Now with just the two of us, I was completely at a loss.

"Come on, where are you planning to go? After everything we've been through, we're lifelong friends. Just keep in touch," I continued. "If you need anything, feel free to ask me. I may not be rich, but I can support you with basic living expenses."

"I'm going to the Changbai Mountains," he said.

"Oh, that's a very cold place," I said. "Jiangnan is so nice—four distinct seasons, a humid climate, a good place for people."

"I can only go there," he said, then put down his chopsticks.

After he said that, we had no real conversation. In silence, we finished our meal, and I no longer felt awkward. He put down his chopsticks, looked at me, and said, "Goodbye."

With that, he stood up, shouldered his bag, and walked downstairs. A bit surprised, I called out, "We haven't finished the dishes yet."

He was already downstairs. I smoked a few puffs in frustration, stood up, and leaned by the window. I saw him walking away along Gushan Road.

I sat down, thinking, what was that about? Was he afraid of being embarrassed about not having money to pay? He'd been broke plenty of times before, and I'd never seen him act so distant. Pondering his words just now, I found them odd—there was a particularly strange feeling in what he'd said.

"I came to say goodbye to you." "This whole thing is over. I thought about my connection to this world, and it seems the only one I can find now is you."

I suddenly stood up from my seat, remembering one of his nicknames—Professional Disappearing Person.

Before, when he wanted to leave, he never said a word. When he said goodbye to us in Banai, he hadn't said anything either. Saying goodbye seemed unlikely for a Professional Disappearing Person. Yet this time he had traveled a long way to appear before me, specifically to say goodbye.

This farewell must be different from his previous departures.

A strong sense of foreboding made me restless. Was he leaving this city and me, his friend? No! Could it be that he was leaving this world? "Changbai Mountains?" I threw down all my cash, told the waiter to deliver the change to the Xiling Society next door, then grabbed my coat from the chair and rushed after him.

I chased all the way to Beishan Road, drenched in sweat, but didn't catch him. On Beishan Road there were only countless empty taxis shuttling back and forth.

I ran back to my shop, packed a few things, slung my bag over my shoulder, and said to Wang Meng, "I'm going out for a while."

Wang Meng's face immediately turned pale. He grabbed my arm. I asked him what he was doing. He said, "Boss, every time before, when someone comes to the shop and you rush off, you always end up gone for a long time. You need to give me some instructions."

I said I had no time for instructions, and told him, "If anyone comes looking for me, say I'm on vacation. You handle everything. If there's a big transaction, don't close it unless it's very safe. Wait until I'm back to discuss it."

"Will you really come back?" Wang Meng asked.

I asked him, "Why do you ask?" He said, "Didn't you say you'd stop wandering around? In TV shows, every time a master retires from the martial world and gets called out again, he always dies. Boss, you'd better be careful."

I patted him and thought, Damn it, I'll deal with your jinx mouth when I get back. I ignored him, turned around, and ran out.

Poker-face didn't have an ID, so he couldn't fly. He must have taken a bus or train. Trains have schedules. In the taxi, I checked the train timetable on my phone and immediately realized he couldn't have taken the train. The trains heading toward Jilin direction only ran very late at night. So he must have taken a long-distance bus.

So I had the taxi take me to the long-distance bus station. That way, even if I didn't find him at the bus station, I'd still have time to go to the train station. He couldn't be walking, could he? Thinking that, I felt my plan was pretty solid.

When I got to the bus station, it turned out to be peak travel season. It was packed. I squeezed through the crowd, searching constantly. Several times I thought I saw him, but when I pushed through, it wasn't him.

Then I ran to the boarding gates and searched nearby. Still nothing. I was sweating profusely, thinking, could the taxi driver have been so fast that I arrived before him? Or maybe the guy really had no money and didn't take a taxi—he walked. At this rate, he'd be lucky to have reached Yan'an Road intersection.

After circling around a few times, I realized I couldn't find him in this crowd. I went to check the bus departure schedule and found there were no buses heading toward Jilin—probably because the route was too long. My heart calmed down a bit. I thought, well, it seems the train is his only option. Then, in a daze, I saw him sitting in a bus that was pulling out, driving past the waiting room window.

I let out a surprised grunt, thinking, what's going on? There's no bus heading to Jilin. I immediately went to ask the attendant, who said, "This is a bus to Beijing."

Damn it, I thought, what's going on? No matter what bus, as long as it's heading in the same direction, just get on first. That's Poker-face's logic—only he knows all his actions, and it has nothing to do with reason anymore.

I chased out of the station. The bus exit was far from the waiting room. By the time I got there, even the taillights of the bus were out of sight. Panting, I told myself I had to calm down. Damn it, I refused to believe that in this city, I would lose to someone with a Level 9 disability in life skills.

I took a taxi back to the shop. Wang Meng was happily playing Minesweeper. When I walked in, I nearly scared him so badly he fell off his seat.

"Boss, you're back so soon this time?"

"Less nonsense!" I kicked him off his seat, booked a flight online, and quickly searched all the itineraries online—the bus stops, times, and possible routes he might take next. After recording everything, I raced all the way to the airport.

After flying to Beijing, I arrived at least five hours before the bus. I bought some tea eggs at the bus station exit and ate them while waiting for Poker-face to arrive. I was thinking, how should I persuade him? I can't beat him in a fight, and I can't outrun him. If he's made up his mind, I have no way at all—I'd just be wasting my breath here. Maybe I could catch him off guard and attack him from behind. I found a brick nearby, weighed it in my hand, and glanced at the tea egg seller next to me. His height was about the same as Poker-face's, so I practiced a few moves.

The image of Poker-face spinning around and kicking me straight into the wall appeared in my mind. His alertness is too high. I think the success rate of ambushing him is way too low. Moreover, if by some chance I succeeded and killed him with one blow, I'd end up in jail and be executed. If I met him again down below, I wouldn't know how to explain it to him.

His alertness is too high. I think the success rate of ambushing him is way too low. Moreover, if I succeeded and killed him with one blow, I'd end up in jail and be executed. If I met him again down below, I wouldn't know how to explain it to him.

Use drugs?

I thought to myself—I wonder if modern sleeping pills would have any effect on his constitution. If they work, I'll first trick him into going somewhere to rest, then say I have a very important matter to discuss with him and hope he can help me. After that, I'll put sleeping pills in a drink. When he passes out, I'll tie him up securely, ask Xiao Hua for a car, and send him straight back to Hangzhou.

Again, the image of Poker-face appearing in my mind—when he hears I want to discuss something with him, he shows no reaction and just turns to leave. At that moment I would inevitably grab him, and then he would spin around and kick me into the wall.

My head was splitting with pain. No matter how I thought about it, it was useless. Even if I tied him up and brought him back to Hangzhou, I couldn't keep him—unless I built an iron cage to lock him up. Otherwise, he'd leave whenever he wanted. If I put him in a mental hospital, maybe that would work, but his skills are too good. I don't think any place could trap him, and then the doctors and nurses at the hospital would get caught up in it too.

As I kept thinking, my heart grew cold. I realized it was absolutely impossible—I could never change his mind.

But still, I had to give it my best try. I also thought: maybe Poker-face just wanted to settle down in that village at the foot of the Changbai Mountains, watching the snowy peaks every day, smoking an old tobacco pipe, and spending his old age there?

Whatever, even if that's the case, at worst I'd just embarrass myself. It doesn't matter.

When I snapped out of my thoughts, I saw the tea egg seller staring at the brick in my hand, hurriedly packing up his stall and leaving. Maybe my expression had been very strange while I was thinking. I quickly threw away the brick, having made up my mind: This would be my last attempt to persuade him. If I couldn't convince him, I wouldn't force it.

However, Poker-face would never let things go my way. I waited at the bus station until the bus arrived in the early hours, only to find that Poker-face was not on it at all.

I watched everyone get off one by one and leave, staring at their backs for a long time, finally confirming that Poker-face wasn't there. I immediately got on the bus, grabbed the driver, and asked where Poker-face had gone.

It took a while before the driver realized what I was talking about. He told me that Poker-face had gotten off at a toll station along the way. I shook the driver's head and asked, "Are you sure he got off, and not just that he was left behind because he took too long in the restroom?" The driver said Poker-face had told him himself, absolutely no mistake.

I asked for the location of that toll station, then found an internet café nearby, opened all the maps, and checked myself. I discovered that not far from that toll station there was a small town with buses heading to Erdaobaihe.

I called Xiao Hua and asked him to arrange a car for me directly, with me covering all the expenses, and headed straight for Erdaobaihe. I sighed to myself—this young man with a Level 9 disability in life skills, I had really underestimated him. Obviously, when it comes to shortcuts to certain places, his mind is quite clear, whether in ancient tombs or modern society.

I'll skip the small talk on the road. By dawn the next day, I had arrived at Erdaobaihe. After getting off, I immediately asked the locals about the drop-off point for black cabs. When I rushed to the drop-off point, I happened to see Poker-face carrying his luggage and walking in a certain direction.

I immediately called out to him. He turned around and saw me, showing slight surprise. But surprisingly, he didn't ask why I had followed him; instead, he continued turning around and walking straight ahead. I had no choice but to stumble and follow after him.